christmas is so much worse as you get older itâs like âwhat do you want this year?â âa sense of purposeâ
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christmas is so much worse as you get older itâs like âwhat do you want this year?â âa sense of purposeâ
[ abel ]
   accepting â thank you âs was never something abel learned. something about the coupled words made his shoulder blades sink, right hip tilting inward so pull at the muscle enough for abel to feel it. especially when it was for something like this ; as easily as he was to swat away every kind word she said like buzzing flies, their relationship was mutualistic. abel had someone to keep him busy during odd hours of the day he wouldnât be working and violeta had .. well, whatever it was she wanted to think she had. ( abel would give it to her regardless. ) two fingers barely begin tapping against her scalp to the tune of some top 40 song abel canât quite remember the name of as his eyes flicker in the gestured direction. â thatâs nothing. iâll carry that for you if it means getting you off your ass. âÂ
   she deserved some fun, was all. something that she could latch onto whenever her lungs got a bit too tight or that ever-present idea of death pressed against her eardrums. his shoulders sag with a sigh, resolute. â â if your dad really is gonna kill me, then i guess thatâs all the more reason for me to do something better with the last day of my life than sit here and play with your hair. â both hands are on her closest shoulder now, pushing once in hopes of coaxing her to sit up entirely. â come on. â a smileâs both illuminating his face and the spaces between his next sentence all the same. â iâll knock down the seventy to twenty, if you say yes. âÂ
  â thatâs nothing for a little twig legged man like me, â itâs natural of her to mock him in a high-pitched tone of voice aimed to emasculate him before her body finds itself reluctantly pushing itself up off of the mattress to sit in an upright position. hair is everywhere, certainly, but she canât be bothered to care too much. and thereâs nothing in her that actually wants to put up with the work of going outside but sheâs not known for her skill in denying abel of anything he should want from her, normally. her face falls to a frown and she rolls her eyes toward him before head drops to the grown to locate her shoes. â honestly, this feels like forced labor. â the statement is mumbled through actions that negate it as violeta climbs out of bed and begins slipping her sneakers on. â if someone wouldâve just showed up to our intial plans to begin with ... â the rest of the comment is lost amidst her tying the laces of her shoes and padding over to her oxygen tank.
  for whatever reason, she always manages to feel a twinge of embarrassment upon standing there in front of a healthy individual and putting her breathing tubes through her nose. she has to turn around toward the side of the room that abel isnt facing and loop the tubes attached to the tank over her ears and into her nostrils. only a moment after sheâs managed to catch her breath and grab a hold of the tankâs handle does she turn around with a hand on a hip, tilting her head toward the other with a patient blink. â how are we supposed to do this? â
iâm lookIN THRU U WHILE UR LOOKIN THRU UR PHONE AN THEN LEAVIN WIT somebody else
Zayn visits the Cristo Redentor in Rio, 07.05.
when u wish u had freckles so u put them on urselfÂ
[ abel ]
   another smileâs folding his lips in lieu of a verbal reply and his headâs teetering back so the crownâs rested against the wall, and thereâs a little less strain on hazel eyes when they flicker towards the ceiling. if he was more poetic, abel would think of how his heartbeat lulls in tune with a lullaby when heâs in her company ( like this, and even when theyâre just bantering back and forth ) and timeâs no longer palpable, hours melting away like seconds and dawn replacing dusk as soon as his eyes blink. but he isnât, and even contemplating being so somehow makes him feel too much like a cheesy romantic, two fingers tapping once to her temple to act like a switch back to reality. â fuck if youâre gonna get cancer perks from me. â itâs a tell â the way the rhythm of his hand remains steady ; a punctuation mark all on its own because abel would rather pour salt into open flesh wounds than have to admit heâs doing anything ( even something as minimal as running a hand through her hair ) because he actually cares about her.Â
     â â donât thank me. â the second word twangs with an edge, like her suggestion had nearly been taken as an insult because his companyâs never something abel wants to be misread as pity. heâd still be here with fingers in her hair and another hyperbolized anecdote on the tip of his tongue even if her health was full well and anyone that tried to say otherwise could easily earn themselves a swift punch to the gut. his smile trims an inch on either side for a second, maybe two, before itâs fully transitioned into a simper. the usual mist of humor gives his eyes a gleam, a practiced sigh exhaling through his nose. â itâs gonna be fifty bucks for the night, and an extra twenty for this. â his index finger loops a strand of her hair around itself in gesture before the flat of his fingertips rest against the side of her head. â or, we can sneak out of the house like ballsy fifteen year olds and do something worthwhile. âÂ
   â what ? why not ?? someone does something nice for you, you say thank you. even if youâre dying. â she wonât be robbed of her right to be polite, she thinks. not even if abel finds it wrong to be thanked for something as banal as giving her time time of day, because itâs special to her and not something that comes as easy as it does to everyone else. she can count on a single hand the ones that have stuck by her unceasingly ( including her parents ) and abel has yet to come off of the list. itâs quite a lot to ask of someone to carry around with them emotionally, she has to assume, to be a friend to someone that youâre not guaranteed to see the next waking day. â seventy dollars ! you must still be high off of that shit you smoked earlier, â she laughs, eyes remaining shut through the feel of his hand against her skin up until the invite comes about and sheâs compelled to get a look at him. violetaâs quiet for a few moments, irises narrowing some in question as to whether or not the idea is genuine before her teeth momentarily catch her lesser lip in thought.Â
   â i gotta lug that crap around ... you know that, right ? â sheâs referring to the fairly sized oxygen tank, making a small head nod toward itsâ general direction in case abel doesnât get the idea. â and my dad will kill you if he catches us. like, literally. with his two bare hands. kill you. â
Humans start out at birth with milk white blood. The more crimes they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing⊠Until your soulmate trips, falls, and exposes black bloodâŠ
obviously im unworthy of sharing a planet with harry so im moving 2 jupiter or something ttyl
Harry arriving at the Another Man A/W Launch Event.
[ lila ]
The one word from the other womanâs lips instantaneously makes Lilaâs stomach turn, a small ache and pang of guilt rushing into her chest and making her frown get a little bigger than it had been previously. Though it wasnât really necessary for Lila to be as coarse as she had been Lila couldnât help but knit her brow together when she watches the woman cross her arms, tongue swiping out to dampen her lips before another sigh slipped past them. â Look, mâsorry, i just have a have a headache is all okay? Just tell me later when I can⊠fully appreciate it.. or something. â She murmurs, fingers running through her hair.
Itâs not so often that Violeta finds her mouth going off on tangents on things revolving her own life, what with the monotonous lack of excitement that follows her everywhere she goes. But when there is something to be said, sheâs not too used to outright being told to stop talking about it. â Jeez, my bad. Seriously. â Head tilts over and a sigh breaks through partly pouted lips, unknowing of what to say next, if anything at all. â You um ... try like, advil? I always got some in my bag, if you need it. â Sheâs constantly carrying about some sort of pill, and has yet to figure out if sheâs just shit at putting up with pain or if itâs one of the tendencies that comes with having a life-threatening disease.
what about a bonnie/clyde kinda relationship?? like maybe they met when she was trying to steal his car or whatever and it was love at first sight and she just jumped into his car and they get together just like that and now they drive around running away from cops and cameras while theyâre robbing stores and banks and theyâre fucking on the hood of his car and being completely destructive and just fucking crazy but like they love each other and they cant be without each other and this is kinda like my problematic fave plot?? v screwed up but i kinda rly want it?
friendly reminder; if you see me reblog/post something that you want such as a âwanted plotâ or âwanted shipâ or just anythingââ pls feel free to message me. i love talking to new people and would love to rp with you.
relationships suck who tf invented them people should just procreate and get moving with their lives this whole couple crap is pointless